


Mirror Mirror

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 07:23:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11618769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A witch with a taste for human souls reveals a secret to Dean before escaping with a promise to return. The boys recruit some help from Bobby to find a way to track and kill her. Dean must now decide if he should tell Sam the truth and risk losing him, or keep his dark secret and risk Sam's life and his own soul.





	Mirror Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> So first, a special thanks to my artist [emmatheslayer](http://emmatheslayer.livejournal.com/). I am so happy with what she came up with! It's gorgeous and absolutely perfect! A big thank you to my beta [ForTheLoveOfChuck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForTheLoveOfChuck/pseuds/ForTheLoveOfChuck) for catching all sorts of typos and issues and helping me make this much better than I could have own my own. And last but not least, thank you to [Justanothersaltandburn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanothersaltandburn/pseuds/justanothersaltandburn) for helping me with summaries and reassuring me through is process I don't suck as much as I think I do. This is my first ever big bang and I really appreciate these people for making it awesome and the mods for hosting. I had a ton of fun. I hope you enjoy reading.

CHAPTER 1

“Alright, no.” Dean snatched the newspaper out of Sam’s hands from across the sticky diner table. “We’ve been working cases for three weeks straight,” Dean said, ignoring his brother’s scowl. “Keeping busy is one thing but man, I’m exhausted.” He rubbed his eyes with one hand. “I know you gotta be too.”

“Just because we don’t read about it, Dean, doesn’t mean people aren’t dying,” Sam argued.

Dean repressed a sigh. It was true of course but Sam only used it as a reason to distract himself from the shit they’d been through recently. “We drove non-stop across the country for a salt and burn in an abandoned house. Half these cases have been nothing.” He flung the newspaper on the table behind them. “We are taking a break. You are taking a break.”

Dean met Sam’s eyes, blue-grey in the early morning light filling the diner.

Sam ran a hand over his face. “Fine, but if we hear about something, I can’t ignore it.”

The server chose that moment to appear with their breakfast. The smell of bacon and eggs put Dean in a good mood.

“If something falls into our lap, we’ll handle it,” he said graciously. “But until then, bacon.” Dean took an exaggerated bite.

Sam smiled a little and rolled his eyes at Dean stuffing his face, which had been the point.

It was an unfortunate choice of words.

Before Dean could finish inhaling the plate full of food, a woman burst into the diner screaming and bleeding.

“Help me. Please someone help.” She had scratches on her arms and face. Her hands and wrists were covered in blood and her dark skin was an ashen grey.

The whole diner fell silent, people frozen in their seats in surprise. Sam was first to his feet followed quickly by Dean. They rushed to the woman’s side just in time. She collapsed into Sam’s arms.

“Please, I was kidnapped.” She grabbed the front of Sam’s shirt. Up close it was clear she had pulled her hands out of cuffs, the skin scraped and bloody. “A witch. You have to believe me. She tried to steal my soul. Please, you have to believe me!”

“Okay, okay.” Sam rubbed her shoulders and picked a piece of glass from her dark curly hair. “I believe you. You’re safe,” he said soothingly

“You do?” Her brown eyes locked onto his, now more towards green than grey. She started to relax.

“Where is she? Where did you come from?” Dean asked. It came out harsher than he meant to and the woman flinched. Sam scowled at him.

“It’s alright. I'm Sam, this is Dean. We’re uh-” Sam took one hand from her shoulder to reach into his jacket pocket. “We’re with the FBI.” He flashed a badge. “What's your name?”

“Elle,” she said, looking at the badge.

People started to gather, murmuring. Dean pointed to the manager behind the desk. “You. Call an ambulance. Everyone else,” he glared around the room at them, “back off.”

Whether because of his tone of voice or the badge Dean didn’t know but people listened.

Sam shifted the girl into a seat and knelt in front of her. She continued to hang on to his shirt.

“Elle, I know you’re scared, but I need you to tell us everything that happened. Everything you can remember, even if you don’t believe it yourself.” Sam's tone was low and even, reassuring in a way Dean would never be able to manage.

Elle took a deep breath. “Okay. I was walking home from work and a woman stopped me. She said something but I don't remember what it was. Then- there was- I know it's crazy.” She looked at Sam begging him to believe her.

He nodded and Elle continued. “There was this weird flash of light and then I was asleep. I was dreaming about um…” Despite everything, the thought brought some color back to her cheeks. “Well, it was a good dream but I knew it wasn’t real. When I realized, I woke up. I don't know where I was but I was laying on a table and the same woman stood over me. There were mirrors and weird symbols everywhere. The woman was chanting and didn't notice I was awake. She seemed in a trance. I was able to pull my hands free and escape.”

“Which direction did you come from? Do you remember the building?” Dean asked, trying to mimic Sam’s earlier tone.

“That way.” She pointed out the window down the street. The red lights of the ambulance arriving flashed. “It was just a house. I was in the basement. I escaped through a broken window. The basement door, you know those red metal ones, it was locked.”

The paramedics arrived and Dean waved them over.

“Thank you, Elle. That was very brave. These guys are gonna take care of you.” Sam stood and motioned to the EMTs.

The girl jumped up and grabbed his free hand. “Don't leave me. Please.” Through the whole ordeal, she had been surprisingly calm but at the mention of Sam leaving she started to shake and cry. “I’m sorry. Just- I-”

“It's okay,” Dean said to Elle and turned spoke quietly to Sam. “The witch is probably long gone. I'll go check it out, you go with her. I'll meet you at the hospital later.”

Dean walked away. Sam tried to follow but Elle whimpered, still holding his sleeve. “Dean, it's too dangerous.”

“I’ll be fine, Sam,” Dean called over his shoulder. He could feel Sam's furious scowl following him. He smirked when he caught his brothers reflection in the store window and it was exactly what Dean had pictured.

Dean started his car and drove in the direction Elle had pointed. He didn't think she had run far in the state she was in. Most of the buildings on this road were old shop fronts, commercial not residential, but there were a couple side streets with houses on them. He wasn't sure exactly what he was looking for but when he saw a house with a “for sale” sign out front and a red bulkhead just beyond the driveway, he stopped to investigate.

A basement window was broken, blood smeared on the sill. Dean could see some weird mystical crap set up below. This was the place, but no sign of the witch.

Dean readied his gun, at least it might slow her down.

The lock on the entrance to the basement wasn't closed, Dean only had to take it out of the loops to get in. He wasn't sure if that was lucky or a bad sign.

By the time he got to the bottom, the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up. Magic crackled in the air setting him on edge. Sunlight and a collection of candles shone in five tall mirrors of varying shape, runes carved into their frames. They stood in a circle at the points of a pentagram drawn in the dirt around two tables. One table was long with symbols carved and painted into the center. It had two sets of handcuffs on the floor around the legs on one side. The other table was set up behind the first like an altar. Black cloth, candles and unidentifiable spell ingredients were scattered around the surface. The largest mirror was positioned directly behind it.

Dean scuffed his boot through the pentagram just in case before stepping into the circle to inspect the altar. The mirrors reflected more light than the candles were giving off. The brightest was the mirror behind the altar. He could see himself, gun still held out and a confused expression on his face but with a pale blue light around him obscuring the room behind him. The closer he got the brighter the light shone.

He had to squint to inspect the items on the table, some strange herbs, small bones, the usual. Dean turned to investigate another mirror and nearly jumped out of his skin. Sam was standing behind him in the mirror, a mischievous smile on his face, his eyes dark blue and hazel.

“Sam!” He whirled around but there was no one there.

Dean looked back and Sam was still there, just over his shoulder. He could almost imagine the warmth of his brother’s body along Dean’s back. He examined Sam’s face closer. He looked a little younger maybe, more carefree. He was happy and it wasn’t something Dean was used to. The realization made his heart ache.

“You know who he is? Interesting.” A woman's voice, low and seductive, echoed from across the room.

Dean spun, aiming his gun at the same time.

A women stood at the bottom of the stairs. She was attractive, gorgeous even, full lips, thin arching eyebrows. She looked to be in her forties. Streaks of silver accented the dark hair that framed her pale, symmetric face.

She didn’t seem bothered by the gun aimed at her.

“He’s handsome. You’re a lucky man.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes and she shrugged a delicate shoulder. “At least you would be, if I wasn’t going to kill you.”

“Not likely,” Dean growled and pulled the trigger.

The woman disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

“Now now, none of that.” She spoke from just behind Dean’s ear.

He went flying across the room into the cement wall of the foundation. Pain blossomed in his hip and shoulder, his breath rushing out all at once. He crumpled to a heap on the floor, gasping.

The witch sighed dramatically from the center of the mirrors. “The ones most in love always fight the hardest. So sweet.” She laughed high and harsh. “Must be why that brat got away. No mind, your love is so much stronger. Maybe even the strongest I've ever seen.”

Dean pushed himself to his feet ignoring her rambling. He pulled out a silver knife and flicked it open.

The woman clicked her tongue. “Darling, that’s not going to work either. I know you want to get back to the love of your life but don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll make a pretty picture crying over your funeral pyre.”

Dean was caught off guard by her comment. Wait, love? What is she…? How could she know…?

She must have seen him hesitant and the panic flash behind his eyes. “Oh, he doesn’t know? It’s a pretty powerful bond for it to be unrequited. Imagine if you confessed.” She shivered with delight.

“Fuck you. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean snapped. He stalked toward her slowly as he spoke.

She laughed again. “It’s the twenty first century you know. People are much more accepting these days. Well, relatively I guess. At least you won't be burned at the stake for being gay. Isn’t it worth the risk to be with your soul mate?”

Dean was closer but not quiet in reach. He froze. Soul mate? What the fuck?

“My mirrors are spelled and they cannot lie. The man you saw is your soulmate. And the light? It’s the power of your love fueling your soul.” She licked her lips. “Delicious. Now be a good little boy and tell him how you feel. It’ll make you much tastier. I'll give you say,” she tapped her mouth, considering, “a week?” She took a step back and raised a warning finger. “And if you don’t, I’ll come for him.”

Her meaning filtered into Dean’s mind. He snarled and swung the knife at her. She cackled again and clapped her hands. The knife cut through open air, the lack of resistance made Dean stumble. When he caught himself and looked around, the woman, mirrors and tables had all disappeared. The only thing left was the star drawn on the ground.

CHAPTER 2

“Thanks for staying with me Sam,” Elle muttered, staring at her bandaged wrists. “I know you're worried about your partner.”

“He’ll be fine. Dean's good at taking care of himself.” Sam tried to smile at her reassuringly but didn't think he succeeded.

“I was just so afraid everyone would think I'm crazy. But you…” Elle trailed off.

“I believe you but you shouldn't tell other people. They won’t understand, believe me,” Sam said sadly, rubbing her back lightly.

Elle looked up. “What am I supposed to say? My best friend will be here soon.”

“As much of the truth as you can.” Sam gave her a half smile, half frown. “Say you were kidnapped, she tried to hurt you, you escaped. If your story is a little fuzzy, people will chalk it up to being scared.”

Elle was about to say something when they were interrupted.

“Elle!” A woman with bushy red hair and freckles called from the doorway and rushed forward, wrapping her arms around Elle.

Sam watched Elle’s face and body language shift in an oddly familiar way that he couldn’t place. She smiled and hugged the woman back, clearly happy to see her friend. Still, her eyes shuttered closed and though she leaned into the hug it was tense and reserved.

“Ashley,” Elle said the name with reverence.

Ashley burst into tears, pulling back to hold Elle’s face in her hands. “You didn’t come home. I was so worried. And then I get a call…” Ashley sniffled. “I’m so glad you're alright.”

Sam felt like he was intruding and moved to leave but the door was suddenly filled with a man nearly as tall as Sam though not as broad. He had medium brown skin, a buzz cut and kind eyes locked on the women embracing. 

He smiled softly. “Hey, hon. Let her breathe,” the man said stepping into the room.

Ashley startled visibly and pulled away from Elle into the man’s embrace. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her curls.

“I’m glad you’re safe, Elle. Ashley and I would be a mess without you,” he said sincerely.

Elle looked at the man with a small smile, her eyes moved down to where Ashley was folded in the man’s arms and then back to her hands. “Thanks, Todd.”

Sam nodded at Elle and stepped out as she started explaining her story to her friends.

He looked down the hallway and registered a familiar face walking toward him on bow legs.

“Dean!” Sam rushed to his brother’s side, grabbing his shoulders. There was dust on his jacket and jeans but he appeared to be in one piece. Something was off though, there was a tightness in his eyes, a defensive curl to his shoulders. Sam dusted off Dean’s arms, and dropped his hands back to his side.

“Hey, how's the girl?” Dean asked, not meeting his eyes.

“Elle,” Sam corrected automatically. Dean always tried to distance himself from the victims but at least he asked. “She's okay. Her wrists will heal and she’s going to have some trouble adjusting but she’s in good hands. What about you? What did you find?”

Dean shrugged. “The bitch was still there but I didn’t get her. Fun fact, shooting her won’t work. She had all these creepy mirrors and started spouting off some shit.” Dean shifted restlessly. “She disappeared before I could gank her.”

“Elle mentioned mirrors. Did you get a good look at them? Seems like a good place to start if we are going to track her down.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah alright. We might need Bobby’s help on this one.”

***

“So we’re dealing with the evil queen?” Dean shook his head. “I hope we don’t run into the seven dwarfs.”

Bobby shrugged. They were sitting in Bobby’s living room two days later pouring over books.

“A lot of fairy tales are inspired by true events. You know that,” Sam countered.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean mumbled not looking at him. “but Snow White?”

“Says here mirrors are a rare but powerful source of magic.” Bobby gestured to the book in front of him. “Most witches get their power from demons but these ones use stolen human souls to power the mirrors and let them live forever. I’m not sure about eating them, that might just be this wackjob.”

“Great, how do we take her out?” Dean snapped. Sam and Bobby just looked at him and he fidgeted.

“I think I got something on that somewhere,” Bobby said eventually. “But we’re still gonna have to find her.”

***

The next day they still didn’t have anything.

Sam sighed. “I’m going to call Elle. Maybe she remembered something that will help.”

“Good idea,” Dean muttered.

Sam felt Dean's eyes on him as he stepped down the hall so his conversation wouldn’t interrupt the research.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Elle. It’s Sam, uh with the FBI.” He’d never actually given her a last name.

“Yeah, hi.”

“I hate to ask you this but we’re hitting some dead ends. Is there anything else you can remember? What she said to you? Anything that might be helpful.”

“Actually,” Elle’s voice brightened. “I did remember. She said ‘You should have told her when you had the chance.’”

“Any idea what that means?” It didn’t sound relevant but better to look at everything.

Elle cleared her throat. “Yeah, she was talking about Ashley. I’ve been in love with her for years but...well her and Todd are so happy. That’s what I dreamed about, me and Ashley. That’s how I knew it wasn’t real.”

“Oh.” Sam was still confused.

“I told her though. It’s, well, it’s complicated but…” She trailed off. “Sorry. This probably doesn’t matter.”

“It’s fine,” Sam assured her. “You think she knew about your feelings for Ashley?”

“Yeah, and I’ve never told anyone. I hope that helps. I’ll sleep better if I know she’s taken care of.”

“Thanks Elle. We’ll find her, I promise. Take care.”

Sam disconnected.

Dean cut off a whispered conversation with Bobby when Sam walked into the study. The atmosphere was tense.

Sam was immediately on edge. “What's going on?” The question was directed to Dean. Bobby looked from one Winchester to the other.

“Nothing,” Dean lied. 

Sam knew he was lying. Sam always knew when Dean lied to a direct question. What he didn’t know was why he was lying. He thought back over everything with this case and realized Dean had been acting weird since he got back from that basement.

“Huh,” Sam said.

“Huh what?” Dean asked, slightly exasperated.

“What happened in that basement, Dean?”

Dean shifted. “What? I told you what happened.”

Sam shook his head. “No, you didn’t. Not really. I believe your exact words were ‘creepy mirrors’ and ‘spouting shit.’ What did she say to you? And why did she just leave without killing you?”

“She didn't say anything important. It doesn’t matter,” Dean grumbled, pacing the room.

“If it doesn’t matter, just tell me.”

Dean turned on him. “Let it go, Sam.”

Sam got mad. “If you’re trying to protect me, just stop.” He covered the space between them in two long strides until he was in Dean’s space. “You can’t keep treating me like a kid.” He was looking down into Dean’s face as if to illustrate the point.

Dean looked up at him, a little lost for a moment, his green eyes wide. Sam noticed the freckles on Dean’s nose and cheeks stood out more at this angle making him look younger.

“Just tell him, ya idjit.” Bobby picked up a stack of books grumbling about getting kicked out of his own study as he left.

Dean stepped away, running a hand through his hair and sighing. “Fine, it’s probably all bullshit anyway.”

“What’s all bullshit?” Sam asked irritated. Why did Dean always keep things from him?

“The mirrors. They didn’t just reflect, they-” Dean gestured helplessly, “showed things.”

Sam frowned. “What, like the future?”

“No, I only saw two. One was me but all glowing and shit. The other…” Dean trailed off.

“The other?” Sam prompted.

“The other was... you.” Dean didn’t look at him.

Sam still wasn’t sure what the big deal was. “Uh, so? What does that mean?”

“The witch, she said…” Dean cut off again and Sam sighed in frustration. “She said it showed my soul mate,” Dean said in a rush. “And the glowing in the other mirror was my love for you.”

Sam vaguely registered that his brother was blushing. He might have made a bigger deal about it if he wasn’t already in shock over Dean’s statement.

“Soul mates? And we believe her?” Sam wanted to snort or make some other noise of disbelief to show how much stock he put in one witch’s babbling but somehow… somehow Sam had always known.

Dean nodded. He was watching Sam closely now that he couldn’t bring himself to look at Dean. “Bobby says there must be some truth to it. Something about how the magic works with mirrors. It doesn’t mean we’re in- it’s not always- you know. Since we’re brothers, it’s probably-”

“Stop,” Sam said. His mind was reeling. He gotten passed this. Dean’s words tore open an old wound and Sam didn’t think he could hide his feelings. He couldn’t process this right now, with Dean so close. “I- Just stop.” He had to get out of here.

Sam spun on his heel and headed for the door. He grabbed the keys to one of Bobby’s trucks on his way out. He felt a hand on his shoulder, spinning him before he could escape. Anger boiled in him. He just needed a little god damn space.

“Sam, where are you going? This doesn’t have to mean anything.” Dean looked panicked, the hand on his shoulder tightened almost painfully..

“Doesn’t mean anything? This is seriously fucked up Dean,” Sam yelled.

Dean dropped his hand. His usually pouty lips pressed together and his eyes were tight.

Sam ran a hand through his hair. “I just- I need some time.”

Sam got in the truck and just drove.

Dean’s last angry, wounded look haunted him but it was the words that hurt the most.

Sam had been in love with Dean since before he knew what love was. If someone had told a ten year old Sam that Dean was his soul mate, he would have shrugged and answered “of course.” It was shortly after that, when Dean started bringing home girls, Sam realized his feelings were wrong and worst of all, one sided. He had pined after Dean, struggling with his feelings for eight fucking years. Eight years of watching Dean go out and fuck girls, of hating himself for imagining it, imagining it was him. Eight long years till he could escape and finally get over being in love with his own brother. At least, he thought.

The more time he spent with Dean, the more it all came back. It was part of why he was so angry all the time. He couldn’t help how much he watched his brother. Dean had an annoying habit of licking his lips and Sam was helpless, imagining the taste of his lips, his tongue, his cock. Fuck!

And Dean said it didn’t mean anything. Maybe not for Dean. Dean wasn’t the sick bastard in love with his own brother. Sam had to get this under control or Dean would find out. The punch Dean would throw he could handle, it's the look of disgust that would slay him.

CHAPTER 3

Dean waited in the kitchen for nearly an hour, shifting restlessly from the counter to the doorway to the chair. Eventually, he gave up expecting Sam to come back quickly, if at all. He knew he couldn’t stomach pouring over books looking for more information on magic mirrors and soulmates. Instead he went out to the garage and worked on a car. He started with Baby but there wasn’t much to be done so after a few hours he moved on to whatever junker Bobby had lying around and worked on that for a while.

Dean replayed Sam’s reaction in his head over and over. He’d been surprised but he hadn’t said much beyond the obvious. Dean wasn’t sure what that meant. A small part of Dean had hoped that maybe Sam would be alright with the idea and fall into his arms like some stupid rom-com. A louder voice said that Sam was better off this way and should hit him in the face and be done with it. Unsurprisingly, neither happened. Instead, Sam had run off like the little shit always did. Dean would never understand Sam’s need for space but maybe that was because Dean was the fucked up piece of shit in love with his baby brother.

“Hey,” Sam said from the doorway.

Dean jumped and hit his forehead on the hood of the car.

“Fuck,” Dean muttered angrily.

Sam stepped forward trying to smother his smile. “Sorry, here, let me see.”

He grabbed Dean’s shoulder in one hand and chin lightly in the other, turning his face this way and that to examine the spot.

Dean went with it, not wanting to spook Sam into running again. The closeness was distracting. Dean could smell Sam’s shampoo, feel the heat of his body and see the way his tongue flicked against his teeth. Dean hated that Sam was taller than him, really he did, but at that moment he forgot why. Dean’s breath caught in his throat and his heart hammered so loud he was sure Sam could hear it.

“You’re fine,” Sam said, stepping back. Dean had to fight the urge to follow.

“I uh-” Dean’s voice was thicker than he meant it to be. He cleared his throat. “I knew that.”

“Yeah,” Sam sighed.

“So are we uh-” Dean was going to say good but Sam finished it for him.

“Soulmates? Apparently.”

Dean let out a bark of nervous laughter.

“We’re good, Dean.” Sam smiled tightly.

Dean didn’t know what that meant.

“Have you been out here all night?” Sam asked suddenly. Dean realized it was nearly dawn.

“Have you been driving all night?” Dean countered.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Go get some sleep,” Dean said, gently as he could.

Sam stretched. “Only if you do too.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m gonna shower and then I will.”

Sam left and Dean showered quickly. Sam was still awake when Dean entered the tiny bedroom they shared, reading some book. There were twin mattresses on either side of the room barely two steps between them, a single nightstand and a dresser.

Dean looked around and remembered the first time they slept here. Even though there were two beds, Sam had crawled into his because they were used to sleeping together. He remembered later, when Sam was eight or nine he was too big to share anymore so they pushed the beds together. Dean had adored Sam then, before he started to grow up and Dean’s feelings got complicated.

Dean realized he'd been standing just inside the doorway staring around the room. He looked nervously at Sam, but he was smiling softly, dimples digging into his cheeks.

“Simpler times,” Sam mumbled.

“Yeah.” Dean crawled into the tiny bed and flicked off the light. “Good night, Sammy.”

“Night Dean.”

Dean was exhausted. He laid in bed and drifted off to the sound of Sam's breathing. Just before sleep claimed him, it occurred to him that Sam had been so distracted by the idea of soulmates he never asked more about why the witch didn't kill him. He hoped it stayed that way.

It wasn't that many hours later Bobby woke them up banging around in the kitchen making breakfast and coffee.

Dean groaned. Who did a guy have to kill to get some sleep? He looked over at his brother as he always did first thing. Sam was pulling himself up, throwing his mile long legs over the edge of the bed.

“Morning,” Sam muttered.

Dean grunted and stretched.

As Sam stood up, Dean could see Sam's morning erection tenting his sleep pants. He let his eyes slide over it, trying not to take too much notice but it made him all the more aware of his own. Sam shuffled out of the room trying to keep his hips turned away.

Another time Dean would have given Sam shit, cracked a joke about what kind of dreams Sam must have been having. He didn't have it in him this morning.

As the day went on there was still some awkwardness between them but for the most part Dean tried to ignore it.

“Well,” Bobby said, breaking the silence. “This is something.” Dean perked up and Sam did the same.

“Some of those fairy tales are true. If the witch uses the mirror magic to spell someone, it can be broken by a kiss from your soul mate.”

“True love's kiss?” Sam asked with a shaky laugh. Dean's eyes snapped to Sam and his laugh died. Sam cleared his throat and looked away.

“Come on, Bobby. You can't be serious.” Dean groaned. Would the weirdness of this never end?

“You want to check the 800 year old german translation? Be my guest,” Bobby grouched.

“It still doesn't help us find or kill the witch,” Sam said reasonably.

“There's no reason to find her if we can't take her out.” Dean paced across the room to flipped through an arbitrary pile of books. He was never very good at this stuff.

“Well, I found a recipe for killing witches but it might not work on this one. The mirror thing might be a whole different can of worms.”

Sam tilted his head to the side, considering. “What if we destroy the mirrors first?”

“Might work, it'll at least slow her down. She'd have to remake them before she could hurt anyone,” Bobby answered

Sam ran a hand through his hair. “We still have to find her, though.”

“More research,” Dean grumbled. “Fantastic.”

They went back to work.

It was a few hours later, Sam went to get lunch and Dean took the opportunity to tell Bobby the last piece of the puzzle.

“So uh-” Dean rubbed at the back of his neck. “I think I know how to find this bitch.”

Bobby set his book down. “Want to share with the class?”

“She said she’d come back for my soul in a week. After I-” Dean licked his lips nervously. “She didn’t realize we were brothers. She thought I was gay and repressing my uh- whatever, for Sam. She said she’d go after him if I didn’t confess,” Dean said then added quickly, “Not that there is anything, you know, to confess, I mean.”

Bobby’s face darkened with anger. “Boy, I don’t care about your repressed sexuality or hidden feelings or any of this should I tell him should I not crap you’ve both had going on since Sam hit puberty. Why are you just now telling me you’ve got a witch on your tail? ”

Dean stared blankly for a second processing that first sentence. Did Bobby know about …? And did he say both? Does that mean Bobby thinks Sam…?

Bobby smacked him upside the head to get his attention. “A week? That only gives us a few days! You trying to get us all killed?”

Dean flinched and rubbed at the sore spot. “I-”

“Save it,” Bobby said without heat. “I’m gonna cook up some witch killing brew, you figure out what to tell Sam. We’ll go from there.” He gave Dean a friendly pat on the shoulder as he got up to start collecting spell ingredients.

Dean made his way to the garage. Instead of working on anything he just sat behind the wheel of Baby trying to decide what to do. Really, there wasn’t much to decide. He wasn’t scared of the witch, but he couldn’t take a chance of her hurting Sam.

CHAPTER 4

Sam came back with sandwiches and beer. Bobby was grinding something with a mortar and pestle. Dean was nowhere in sight.

“We figure out how to find the evil queen?” Sam asked, pulling his eyebrows together in confusion.

Bobby grunted. “Something like that. Go ask Dean.”

Sam could tell Bobby was irritated and trying to cover it.

“Uh, okay. Don’t forget lunch.” Sam set a sub on the counter. He grabbed a couple beers and put the rest in the fridge before heading for the garage, again.

Dean was sitting in the impala gripping the steering wheel. He looked up when Sam came in, smiling brightly but it faded and his eyes tightened fractionally. Sam recognized the reaction as something like what Elle had done when she saw Ashley. It was what Dean almost always did when he saw Sam. Sam wasn't sure what that meant… or maybe he didn’t dare hope.

Sam got in the passenger seat and handed Dean a sandwich and beer. “So what’s up? Why’s Bobby pounding something into powder in there?” Sam asked taking a sip of his own beer.

Dean let the food rest on his lap which had Sam worried right away.

“Yeah,” Dean said his voice low and rough. He filled his lungs and exhaled in one breath, trying to get it all out. “The witch told me she would be back in a week for you if-” Dean cut off, his breath leaving in a rush. He tried again. “She won’t. She’s coming for me I just-” Dean smacked his hands on the steering wheel. “Damnit!”

“Whoa man, what are you talking about? You knew she was coming back?” Sam didn’t even bother to get mad this time. Maybe Dean’s obvious anxiety was helping to keep him calm.

“Yeah, she wants to eat one of our souls or something.” Dean looked at Sam with a desperate intensity that made Sam nervous and also filled his mind with some inappropriate thoughts. He tried to push them aside when Dean continued. “I won’t let her come after you, you’ll be alright. I promise.”

Sam frowned in confusion. “I’m not worried. We'll be ready. It won’t matter who she goes for.”

“No, she won’t go after you at all if I- I just-” Dean bit his lip and stared out the windshield.

“Dean what-” Sam started.

“It’s not nothing, Sammy. This thing, this soulmate thing. It’s means everything.” Dean finally looked back at Sam. His eyes were such an intense green, practically sparkling, it took Sam’s breath away. “You mean everything, always have.”

Sam’s heart hammered in his chest. “What are you saying?”

“I-” Dean groaned and went back to staring down the garage wall. “Don’t make me spell it out.”

“Well, I’m not clear on what you mean so you’re gonna have to. Yesterday you said it was no big deal.” Sam sounded angry but he wasn’t.

Dean flinched. “God, couldn’t she have made me do something else?” he muttered to himself. “Look,” he said louder. “I was lying. It is a big deal, to me anyway. It doesn’t have to be for you. It shouldn’t and I don’t want it to be a big deal for you.”

“Are you saying…” Sam cut off. He couldn’t ask his brother if he was in love with him. It was too fucked up, but Sam was tired of hiding how he felt. If four years apart and all the shit they’ve been through didn’t change it, nothing would. Maybe this witch was really doing them a favor. “Dean, are you saying you’re in love with me? Like in love, in love with me?”

Dean’s eyes went wide, desperate and panicked. “Sam, I- it’s-” he stuttered but didn’t actually answer. Sam didn’t want to, just couldn’t read into the expression.

“Answer the question,” Sam said harshly. He just needed to hear it.

Dean let his forehead fall onto the steering wheel. “Yes.” It was a whisper, barely audible over the rush of Sam’s blood in his ears.

Dean pushed his way out of the car before Sam could respond or do anything but gape.“Look, hit me if you want,” he said, spreading his arms wide as Sam got out and walked around the car. “Once we gank this bitch, we can pretend none of this happened and we can go back to normal.” Every inch of Dean’s expression begged for Sam to agree.

Sam stopped in front of Dean, hands clenching to keep from reaching for him. “I don’t want that.” Dean’s face fell. “No,” Sam hurried to correct. “I don’t want it because-” Sam ran out of words. As much as he liked to pretend, talking was never something either of them were good at. “Fuck it,” he said to himself.

Sam grabbed the front of Dean’s jacket with one hand, his shoulder with the other and pulled him close. Dean didn’t react or try to stop what was happening, even though it was fast Sam knew he could have. Instead, at the last second Dean tilted his head up so their lips met perfectly.

It wasn’t the searing passion Sam might have expected or even dreamed about. It was soft and sweet. Dean’s plush lips moved against Sam’s in soft presses. His hands came up to grip the front of Sam’s shirt and he made a low noise in the back of his throat.

For those few precious seconds, Sam could see the world with crystal clarity. The spicy scent of Dean’s after shaved mixed with the leather of his jacket, the smell of home. Dean’s breath over his mouth was sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted. Anywhere that Dean was touching him sparkled with awareness. He wanted more, more of Dean. He could feel every cell in his body calling for it.

Then Dean pushed him away, not quite hard enough to make him stumble.

“We can’t,” Dean pleaded. “You deserve better. This is so fucked up. This never should have happened.” Dean turned and went back inside.

Sam sat on the hood of the impala. His lips still burned from the echo of Dean’s touch and he ignored his cock throbbing tight in his jeans. He wanted to rage and scream at whatever cruel force thought brothers should be soulmates. Instead, he sat there trying to accept that no matter how much he loved, or was in love with Dean, if Dean didn’t want him there was nothing he could do.

After some time had passed, Sam stopped wallowing and went inside to help prepare to face the witch.

***

The week was up, the plan in place, now to wait. The plan wasn't particularly detailed. Bobby and Sam would hide. When the witch came for Dean, they'd wrap her in iron, get her to tell them where the mirrors were, break them and finish her off. There were bound to be hiccups but it was the best plan they had.

So they wouldn't risk running into a civilian, they found a field in the middle of nowhere. It provided good cover for Sam and Bobby on opposite ends and a good view of Dean and anyone who might show up.

It was heading toward sunset, Dean was clearly bored and Sam's legs were cramping from crouching in the bushes all day. For about the hundredth time, Sam thought about calling it. Maybe she hadn't meant exactly a week, or maybe she just wasn't very punctual.

Sam heard a crack in the trees behind him. He spun silently drawing his gun. A squirrel scampered up a tree. Sam let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

He turned back to the cleaning. A bright flash blinded him and soft feminine chuckling filled his ears.

“Foolish boy,” a woman said.

***

Sam woke up in a large comfy bed. Warm yellow sunlight filtered through the curtain, catching in the golden highlights in Dean's hair as he slept on his side peacefully beside him. He smiled sleepily. God, Dean was beautiful, pale freckled skin and long eyelashes resting against his cheek, he was perfect. Sam reached out to trace above his brothers eyebrow and run his thumb over the full curve of Dean's lower lip. It didn't even occur to him not to.

Dean stirred blinking awake, smiling at the sight before him. “You watching me sleep?” Dean rolled to his stomach and stretched his arms under the pillow. “I don't know if that makes you a sap or a perv.” Dean’s voice was rough with sleep and he grinned.

Sam shrugged with a half smile, his hand trailed over the bare skin of Dean's back. “A little of both.” He leaned down to press a kiss to Dean's shoulder blade.

“Enjoy the view?”

Sam shifted under the covers, throwing his leg over Dean's to straddle him. Sam pressed their bodies together in a long line of bare sleep warm skin. “Mmmhmm,” Sam hummed between kisses along Dean's neck.

Dean arched his hips up, rubbing his ass against Sam's erection, making them both groan. “Why did we ever sleep in separate beds?” Dean asked breathless.

“We were both stubborn jackasses.” Sam licked over the curve of Dean's ear and pulled it between his teeth. “You really wanna talk about this now?” Sam spoke around his mouthful.

Dean made a choked noise. “Not really.” He spread his legs so Sam could get between them.

Sam supported himself on one hand and let the other down glide over Dean's side and hip to grip the firm globe of his ass. Sam slid his fingers deeper to rub at Dean's tight, furled entrance. Dean moaned softly, exhaling lightly in pleasure.

Sam paused to lick his fingers before pressing his middle finger into Dean to the first knuckle. He glanced around for the bottle of lube as Dean panted through his nose. Sam didn't need to see to know he was biting his lip.

He finally spotted the cap peaking out from under a pillow and grabbed it. Sam slicked his fingers and Dean huffed impatiently.

Sam dropped a kiss between Dean's shoulder blades. “Don't wanna hurt you.”

“Yeah yeah,” Dean grumbled.

Sam pushed one long finger all the way in and tugged gentle circles around Dean's rim, stretching.

“Fuck, Sam,” Dean moaned.

“Not yet,” Sam grunted. God, he wanted to though. His cock was hard and throbbing, leaking precome against the back of Dean's thigh.

It was the best kind of torture, Dean hot and tight around Sam's fingers, writhing each time Sam added another.

“God, Sam. Just mm- I want you inside me.” Dean's voice was harsh from breathing heavily.

Sam stopped and Dean arched his hips out to give Sam better access. He ran his clean palm over Dean's ass, and watched his hole twitch.

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Sam shuffled back, kicking the blankets off. “Turn over, I wanna see you.”

Dean flipped gracefully, landing with his legs spread and one arm above his head. The sight pulled a groan from Sam, want and pure adoration filled him. Sam leaned down to kiss and nibble at Dean's collarbone and drag his mouth and tongue over his chest.

“Dean,” Sam breathed against his skin. “I-I can't believe I finally have this, have you. I love you.” Sam pulled back enough to meet Dean's eyes, shimmering and dark.

“I love you too Sammy,” his expression serious for all of two seconds. “Now fuck me man, seriously. Or I'll have to take matters into my own hands.”

Sam laughed, nuzzling at Dean's neck. “Oh yeah? What are you gonna do?”

“You want to find out? Alright.” Dean hooked his leg around one of Sam's knees, sat up enough to grab his shoulder and rolled them over expertly so Dean now sat astride Sam's thighs.

“Hmmm I don't think I'll be complaining about this,” Sam said. The sight of Dean above him like this was even better. He could see every part of Dean's chest, from his broad shoulders down to narrow hips where his cock was full and straining toward his flat stomach.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

He leaned down to kiss Sam and when their lips met the everything seemed to shift. The only thing that felt real was Dean's lips against his, not soft and playful liked he'd expected but hard. Hard enough that he thought the force against his teeth might draw blood. Hard enough that he tried to push Dean away but his arms wouldn't move.

“Come back to me, Sammy. Please, you have to.”

Sam felt wetness against his cheek.

“You can't leave me alone.”

Sam wanted to scream.

The world went black.

CHAPTER 5

The sun had set hours ago and Dean thought it must be near midnight. Damn witch couldn't keep to her own schedule. A few minutes later, Bobby called it.

“Come on out, Sam,” Bobby called walking into the clearing. “Guess she’s a no show.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “Come on Sam. What did you fall asleep?” he called as he walked toward where Sam was stationed. He ignored the rising worry, but jogged the last few steps. “Sam, Sammy, come on. It's not funny.”

Sam wasn't there.

Dean flicked on his flashlight. “Bobby, I can't find him. Help me look.”

Bobby came over and turned on his flashlight. “Alright calm down, maybe he just went to take a leak or something,” but he didn't sound convinced.

Dean could taste fear in the back of his throat, his pulse raced with it. They weren't going to find him here. He knew what had happened and it was all his fault. How could he have been so stupid?

They gave up and Dean would have run back to the car if Bobby could have kept up.

“We have to find him Bobby, and fast. We don't know what that bitch is doing to him right now.” Dean's knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

“We will. We’ll figure something out. If we knew the damn witches name I could find her easy but we never figured it out. I got a spell in a bottle we can try to track him. It'll be easier if she hasn't gone too far.

When they got back to Bobby's house, he told Dean to dig out the atlas and lay out the state map while he got out a bottle of some dark liquid.

“I need something of Sam's.” He held out his hand.

Dean ran to the impala and grabbed a shirt from Sam's bag. “This do?”

“Tear off a piece,” Bobby said shortly. Dean could tell that despite his brave face, Bobby was nearly as worried as Dean.

Dean tore off a strip of fabric and Bobby stuffed it into the bottle.

“Alright we pour this over the map, say some mumbo jumbo, and light it on fire. The part of the map that doesn't burn is where Sam is. We’ll start with the whole state and narrow it down.”

Dean nodded. “What happens if he's not in the state anymore?”

Bobby shook his head. “It’ll all burn up. Let's just hope that he is.”

Bobby did his thing and held a candle to the corner of the soaked back cover of the atlas. The plastic coated paper shriveled and stank as it burned. Bobby had started with the lower right corner closest to Sioux Falls. It burned slowly and it was a few agonizing seconds before Dean realized the fire was leaving a part in the upper right corner.

“It's working!” Dean hurried to dig out the maps for Brown County. It took three more tries, Bobby’s bottle was empty by the end but they narrowed it down as much as the could.

“The evil queen took Sam to Storybook Land?” Dean scoffed.

“We can laugh about the irony later,” Bobby said. “We don't know how long she's had him and it's three hours away.”

“Not when I'm driving.” Dean grabbed his keys and headed for the door.

It was just over two hours later the impala pulled up at the deserted amusement park. It was the off season and the middle of the night so no one was around. Dean could see the minarets of a fake castle in the center. Somehow he knew that’s where Sam was.

They made their way past creepy statues of fairy tale characters and rides. The silence, while expected, was still eerie. The only things Dean could hear were his own soft footsteps and his heart hammering in his ears. Dean carried a glass bottle of witch killing brew and Bobby had the iron chains. They also had guns and knives. They were as prepared as they could get.

The “moat” had been drained for the season but plaster knights still guarded the drawbridge. Dean would roll his eyes at the cheesiness when Sam’s soul wasn’t in danger. Inside the walls of the castle were boarded up carnival games, a small amphitheater and a building to the side marked employees only.

Dean pulled his gun and gestured with his chin. Bobby nodded and circled around, looking for a back entrance like they agreed.

Dean tried the door and was disappointed when the handle turned and he didn’t have to kick it down. It opened into a hallway. On the left was an opening with a first aid station, complete with cot. Further down and to the right, Dean could hear chanting that made the hair on the back of his neck rise. Near the end of the hall an open door led to what might have been a break room. Tables were folded and chairs stacked and pushed the the side.

It was just as Elle had described and Dean had seen. The mirrors were in a closer circle this time and the pentagram was black paint instead of drawn. Only this time, Sam lay on the table, his too long legs hanging off the edge from just below his knees and his arms bent uncomfortably above his head and cuffed to the table legs. The witch stood over him, eyes closed and flickering beneath her lids as she chanted. She was illuminated in blinding blue white light from the mirror behind her and reflected in the others. Dean could see his own face in the couple mirrors he could see from this angle. In one, he smiled licking his lips and looking up through his lashes like a girl. He didn’t do that. In another he was on his back, bottom lip caught between his teeth, eyes closed. Okay yeah, he recognized that look but it shouldn’t be playing for everyone to see.

Dean had a moment of hesitation. If he interrupted the ritual would it hurt Sam? If he didn’t interrupt it, it would definitely hurt Sam.

Dean aimed his gun at the mirror behind the witch and fired.

“Wait!” Bobby yelled from across the room too late.

The mirror exploded in a burst of glass and light. Dean dove for cover. The witch screamed in rage and pain.

“Well now you’ve done it,” Bobby grumbled from the floor near by.

“Foolish child!” the witch shrieked. “Your brothers soul was already in that mirror!” She took a deep breath and brushed the shards of mirror out of her hair. “It was so tasty, powerful with a lovely spice. I was nearly done, just adding the last binding runes. And you ruined it!”

Dean watched Sam, he wasn’t moving, he couldn’t even see the rise and fall of his chest that meant he was breathing. His vision started to narrow. If Sam was dead, that bitch would be too and Dean would make sure it was slow and painful.

“Dean!” Bobby snapped. “Stick to the plan.”

Dean nodded and stood up. “Yeah, sorry about that. I wouldn’t have been able to if you had taken me like you said you would.” He stepped away from Bobby trying to keep the woman’s attention.

“I said you needed to confess to strengthen your bond, not push you further into angst and denial,” she chided. “Sammy here, he’s accepted it. For better or worse, he loves you, his soulmate, more than anything else. That devotion...” She kissed her fingertips. “Ah, so sweet.”

Bobby had crawled his way behind her and stood up. He went to pull out the chains.

“I don’t think so,” she said casually waving a hand and sending Bobby flying. “Not so much for being tied up.” She made a sour face. “I’m more of a dom than a sub.”

Dean took the opportunity to shoot out two more mirrors.

The witch howled in rage, sending Dean flying into the chairs this time. Dean groaned in pain and covered his face as two more gun shots echoed and glass rained down around him.

“No,” the witch wailed, falling to her knees. The silver in her hair became more prominent and her skin sagged.

Dean brushed the glass off as he stood up.

“You still can't kill me, or save them,” she said, bitter and frustrated, nodding at Sam and Bobby crumpled on the ground.

Dean pushed aside the worry that choked his throat. “I wouldn't be so sure about that.” Dean grabbed the bottle from his jacket pocket. He shook it between his thumb and forefinger.

The witch’s eyes widened.

“Nighty-night.” Dean threw the bottle.

It hit her chest and shattered. The contents splattered everywhere. It smoked and steamed, the billowing grey clouds obscuring the witch as she screamed.

Dean coughed. He turned away covering his mouth pushing passed the pillar of smoke that was the dying witch to reach Sam.

He was so still. Dean pressed two fingers to his throat and felt nothing. A wild desperate panic gripped Dean's heart.

The whole world narrowed to just him and his brother.

“No, Sam. You can’t. You gotta wake up.” Dean tapped Sam's cheek gently at first and then rougher. “Sam, come on.” He gripped the front of Sam's shirt and shook him. “It was supposed to be me. I’m supposed to protect you. I can't-” Dean choked on a sob, headless of the tears running down his cheeks. “I can't live without you, Sammy.”

He brushed the hair of Sam's forehead and his eyes fell of Sam's lips. Without thinking, he kissed them, putting all his guilt and loneliness into it, hard and fierce until he thought his lips would bleed.

“Come back to me, Sammy. Please, you have to.”

He cupped Sam's cheek, wiping away his own tear, forehead touching Sam’s.

“You can't leave me alone.”

A long moment of silence stretched. Dean couldn’t let go, couldn’t walk away, what was he supposed to do?

Sam gasped, eyes flying open. Dean jumped back as Sam arched off the table.

“Sam!”

Sam struggled against the handcuffs still around his wrists.

“Hey, I got you, I got you.”

Sam stilled. “Dean?”

“Yeah, Sammy. I got you. Hold still.”

Dean picked the locks on the handcuffs with shaking hands and Sam sat up.

“Wha-where are we?” Sam’s eyes roamed over the room. “Bobby!” He rushed to the older man's side, stumbling a little and checked for a pulse.

Dean felt a moment of guilt for not thinking of Bobby sooner but he had been preoccupied with Sam. His brother, who he loved more than anything or anyone, who he almost lost. He leaned back against the table for support, his knees near ready to give out from the rollercoaster of emotion.

Sam sighed. “He’s fine.” He tapped Bobby’s bristled cheek lightly. “Hey, Bobby.”

Bobby groaned. “I am too old for this shit,” he grumbled as he sat up. He caught sight of Sam holding out a hand to help him up. “Sam! Boy, I thought- we’ll never mind what I thought. You’re alive.” Bobby pulled Sam into a hug which Sam returned. Bobby looked at Dean when they broke apart.

Dean nervously wiped the dampness from his lashes with one hand, looking down and hoping Bobby would think he was just rubbing them.

“You did it,” Bobby said as he approached Dean, giving the pile of ash that had been the witch a disgusted look. He clapped Dean on the arm. “True loves kiss, huh?”

Dean’s eyes bulged. Had he seen? And what would Sam think?

Sam didn’t seem freaked or anything, neither did Bobby for that matter.

Bobby gave Dean another pat on the shoulder. “I’ll give you two a minute.”

Sam leaned against the table as Bobby left.

“So,” Sam said once Bobby was out of earshot.

Dean fidgeted. “So.”

“I guess it got pretty bad, huh?”

Dean was hit again with the terror of being without Sam and his throat closed. “Yeah, you were- you weren’t breathing man. I couldn’t find a pulse. I didn’t know what to do.” Damn, he would not cry again. Sam was fine.

“And your solution was to hit me in the mouth with your face?” Sam laughed a little and dabbed at his lips. “Because I think my lips are bleeding.”

“Yeah, well, it saved your life. You don’t get to complain.” Dean pursed his lips, frowning.

“Is that why you did it?” Sam was serious again.

Dean looked up, Sam’s eyes were a deep blue-green. He felt hypnotized. He couldn’t lie. “No,” he breathed. “I couldn’t stand the thought of living without you. It felt like the only thing I could do.”

Sam leaned in, reaching out to gently cradle Dean’s jaw in his huge hand. He didn’t say anything, just brushed his thumb along Dean’s lower lip.

It made Dean want, God, want everything. “Sam.” It was barely a whisper.

Sam leaned in slowly, till his lips covered Deans.

At the contact, something in Dean gave way. It didn’t matter that it was his brother, all that mattered was that it was Sam. It didn’t have to make sense. He wanted Sam and Sam was alive and for some godforsaken reason Sam wanted him too. Nothing else mattered.

Dean wrapped one arm around Sam’s neck to hold him close. Sam gasped in surprise and Dean used the opportunity to thrust his tongue into Sam’s mouth. Sam moaned, the noise going right to Dean’s cock. Dean kissed Sam with everything he had, reveling in every shiver and gasp. He let his hand wander, across Sam’s broad shoulder, the well defined muscle of his chest, settling over Sam’s racing heart, feeling his warm living heat through the plaid shirt. It grounded him like nothing else could.

As they kissed, the intensity built. Sam swirled and pushed against Dean’s tongue with his own. Without pulling away, Sam stood, shifting to stand between Dean’s legs. At this angle, Dean had to tilt his head up. He felt small, fragile almost, and damn if it wasn’t amazing. Sam was a living, breathing wall of muscle, filling his senses.

Sam’s hands seemed to be everywhere, buried in Dean’s hair, smoothing down his chest. Dean groaned into Sam’s mouth when Sam brushed against his nipple, a sharp shock of pleasure shooting down his spine. So Sam did it again on the other side and Dean groaned louder. Sam gripped Dean’s thighs, sliding one hand up roughly towards Dean’s aching cock. Dean bucked his hips into the pressure of Sam’s hand.

“Sammy,” Dean gasped.

Sam ran his knuckles firmly along the hard line of Dean cock and pressed the heel of his palm against the head. Somewhere in the very back of his brain, Dean registered that he was making a mess of his boxers but he couldn’t care less right now.

Dean nibbled at Sam’s lips because Sam had stopped kissing, he was more focused on undoing Dean’s belt, the metal clinking together.

The sound was loud and echoed oddly around the desolated room. It suddenly brought reality crashing back. They were in the break room of an off season cheesy as hell amusement park with the ashes of a dead witch and Bobby right out side. It wasn’t exactly the place Dean had pictured for their first, well, whatever this was.

“Sam,” Dean said, his toning meaning stop.

Sam froze and dropped his hand. He pulled back to meet Dean’s eyes, searching. Dean got lost for a moment in the golden green.

“Sorry, I- we shouldn’t-” Sam stammered.

Dean blinked, he was still fuzzy with arousal, most of his blood pooled below the waist. “No, we should, just uh- not here. Bobby’s right outside.”

Sam smiled with relief. “Yeah, you’re right.” He gave a short laugh, still close enough for Dean to feel it blow across his face. “I thought you were gonna change your mind.”

Dean grinned and tipped his head to brush his lips lightly against Sam’s. “No way, baby boy,” he murmured. “You’re stuck with me as long as you’ll have me.” Sam blushed at the endearment as they pulled apart. “Besides,” Dean tapped Sam on the shoulder with the back of his hand. “I’m not a tease. I wouldn’t get you all worked up and not deliver.” He said it with more bravado than he felt, because suddenly, with time to think, he realized this was a big fucking deal, no pun intended.

Sam rolled his eyes. “You sure it’s not the other way around? Come on. Bobby’s waiting.”

EPILOUGE

Rowena sat in a high backed chair in front of a roaring fire, a glass of wine casually dangling in her right hand. Her eyes were closed as she focused on the music playing over the expensive surround sound speakers. She chose not to acknowledge the trail of grey smoke that made it’s presence known before settling into a hand held mirror on the mantle.

The music crescendoed. Rowena rolled her head, letting the melody fill her mind with images from another time and place. Light flashed from the mirror, she ignored it. She took a sip of wine, breathing deeply. It had been a trying day. The owners of the summer home she was living in decided to stop by for the night. It hadn’t ended well for them. The screaming, though brief, had given Rowena a headache and all the clean up meant she needed a nice long bath. Now she wanted to relax with some soothing music and a glass of wine, this newest unplanned guest be damned.

The mirror flashed angrily.

“I see you, dearie,” Rowena finally chirruped. “Disturbing my evening is not the best way of asking for help you know.”

The lights flashed again, a little more sedately.

“Oh fine. What does a girl have to do to get a little peace and quiet around here?” Rowena set the glass on the end table next to the chair and approached the mantle.

Whispers filled her mind, frantic words from the woman trapped in the mirror.

“You went after hunters, Rose?” Rowena shook her head. “You know that never ends well.”

There were more whispers and some indignant flashing.

“You were always over reaching, and too impatient. It’s why they kicked you out of the coven.” She shrugged. “I’m not one to talk though.”

Smoke streamed out around the edges of the mirror but couldn’t get very far from the surface.

“Now now, don’t leave in a huff.” Rowena giggled. “Actually, you can’t leave at all. I know you gave me your phylactery to keep it safe but you really should know better than to trust a witch.”

The smoke turned darker and swirled angrily over the surface.

“Oh darling, maybe after a few hundred years of servitude I’ll find something more useful or get bored and let you out. But until then…” Rowena picked up the mirror and the smoke settled back down. “Mirror, mirror little witch, who’s become Rowena’s bitch?”

The shiny surface turned black and stormy. A little crack started to form at the edge.

“Remember, mirror’s cannot tell a lie.” Rowena smiled with delight.

Slowly the smoke cleared to show an ancient woman. Her once dark hair almost entirely grey, her fair skin wrinkled and sagging. The only thing recognizable from the beautiful woman Rowena once knew was the haughty set of her face and her turned up nose.

“That’s better.”

Rowena set the mirror down and went back to her glass of wine.


End file.
